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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29125581">Monday Wednesday Friday</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopsOK/pseuds/WhoopsOK'>WhoopsOK</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Chubby Hank Anderson, Crush at First Sight, Dirty Talk, Fade to Black, Fantasizing, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Inappropriate Erections, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Relationship, Teaching Assistant Connor, Unresolved Sexual Tension, public fondling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:54:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,059</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29125581</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopsOK/pseuds/WhoopsOK</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor knows he’s staring, knows his mouth is watering, but he doesn’t know how to deal with either of those things.</p>
<p>Shyness has never been a problem for him, more often than not he’s been told he talks a little too much. But here he is, sitting there one bite into his lunch, overheating like a nervous teen.</p>
<p>(Connor is a little obsessed with the new regular at his lunch hour. He's not as subtle as he thinks he is.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Anderson/Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Banned Together Bingo 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Monday Wednesday Friday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>BTB Fill for Vulgar, Vulgar, Vulgar, because honestly? I don’t know what counts anymore, my meter for vulgar is so broken, but let’s go with naughty language, bodily functions, and public indecency, shall we? Heed the tags.</p>
<p>Also, I realized I was one fic away from a BINGO so I slammed an ending on this today, ta dah!</p>
<p>(Also, also, feel free to me know if you think that rating needs to get bumped up.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By this point of his life, Connor has accepted that he has to set and follow a very structured routine or the wheels will start to come off his ability to manage his anxiety.</p>
<p>College hasn’t made that as hard as he’d thought it would. Even if he has never managed to get his classes to be at the same times every day like he wants, he still can set a schedule around them that makes things easier to manage. He wakes up at the same time every day and spends a few moments mentally calibrating for which daily routine he will be following, up to and including his quiet and leisure hours.</p>
<p>Connor has lunch every day in the second floor dining hall; 12:30 pm on Tuesday/Thursday before Government and 1:35 pm on Monday/Wednesday/Friday after Cybersecurity. On TTh, he sits with Marcus and whatever friend—usually North or Josh—is with him that day at one of the tables near the front. Sometimes Connor can be convinced to eat in the student center commons instead on those days. On MWF he eats alone at the high bar on the east side of the hall where he can watch the rest of the room.</p>
<p>Lunch is his favorite part of his routine because even if it gets disrupted, it’s never so off track as to derail the rest of his day in a way he can’t accommodate. If he can stand still for long enough to recalculate his time, he’ll be fine, since his next class isn’t for another hour.</p>
<p>It’s an hour he may have to make use of today, because a stranger has thrown a wrench in his preestablished routine.</p>
<p>Connor has never seen the man who sits down in his direct line of sight today, a few tables away because, surely, he would’ve choked on his food much sooner.</p>
<p>When asked previously, Connor has always maintained that he doesn’t have a type, not physically anyway. After going away to college gave him the opportunity to meet new people out from under his foster mother’s sharp gaze, he’d found that he wasn’t as…<em>reticent </em>with his affections as high school had made his friends believe. College-freshman Connor crashed into a sex life with the pretty art student who thought he was a butch girl at first, the linebacker and his stoner friend at his first frat party, fucking <em>Gavin </em>from high school before he knew better; there wasn’t a lot of overlap in their appearances. He spent a fair amount of time being his freshman year friend group’s party favor before he restabilized to the idea of having only himself as supervision. Which means he isn’t missing classes at the promise of a blowjob anymore, but still spends a fair amount of his allotments of free time between any legs that will open for him.</p>
<p>To the point, he’s not <em>new </em>at attraction, nor to acting on it, so he is completely flabbergasted by the heat that’s rushing him right now. <em>His Type</em> is literally manifest in human form before him.</p>
<p>The guy is at the very least twenty years older than anyone here and making no attempts to hide it. His hair, including his beard, is completely grey and his face permanently lined with laughter and a furrow of frustration. The laughter and frustration seemed to leak into his taste for clothing, too, with a plain, well-worn jacket and the most hideous print on a button-down Connor has ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on stretched over his stomach.</p>
<p>Connor knows he’s staring, knows his <em>mouth </em>is watering, but he doesn’t know how to deal with either of those things.</p>
<p>Shyness has never been a problem for him, more often than not he’s been told he talks a little too <em>much</em>. But here he is, sitting there one bite into his lunch, overheating like a nervous teen.</p>
<p>The man comes and goes through the buffet lines six times while Connor sits there trying not to be obvious about his staring. It’s not that Connor wants to make a spectacle of him, it’s just… He looks so comfortable? Even mostly buttoned up on a college campus, he’s sprawled in his chair like he doesn’t give a shit about anything but shoveling down his burger and enjoying his lunch hour. Is he a professor? Connor doesn’t recognize him, does enough networking—<em>ass-kissing, </em>he hears North’s voice say—that he thinks he would’ve heard if they hired someone new. Is he a <em>student?</em> Visitors can’t even get into this dining hall, he has to be connected to the university. Connor <em>very badly </em>wants to be connected to him, too.</p>
<p>Then the man has the <em>audacity</em> to stretch his arms up over his head. He lowers a fist to his mouth like he’s belching and Connor should find exactly no part of that attractive, but <em>apparently</em>—</p>
<p>The bell signaling the end of the hour rings and Connor startles back to reality.</p>
<p>Reality being that he has not even gotten halfway through his meal and he’s uncomfortably turned on in broad daylight in <em>public</em>.</p>
<p>At the sound of the bell, the unknowing object of his internal bluescreen glances towards the windows, scratching absently at his beard. He stands and Connor is gifted with the sight of his entire body, all worn fabric and soft edges Connor desperately wants to feel against his hands. Unbidden, he is struck imagining the guy pressed up behind him, his beard scratching at his shoulder and his tummy pressed into his back. The thought leaves him breathless.</p>
<p>As soon as the man turns vaguely in his direction, Connor is off like a startled cat, probably looking far more guilty than he would’ve if he’d just gone back to eating. He stands to turn away, as an afterthought draping his bag over his arm, hopefully looking like he’s covering a spill and not like he’s tenting his chinos.</p>
<p>The thought of walking across campus like this makes a nail of anxiety find its way into his chest, so he reorders his steps past the dish washing counter to take him back into the main building instead of out onto The Lawn. The bathroom in this direction is a single room instead of a stall and Connor stands in the clean, chemical smell of the room, trying to regain his breath. Catching sight of himself in the mirror, he finds he looks far more flustered than a lunch hour should leave him.</p>
<p>In all honesty, his thought process had been to come to the bathroom to calm the hell down. He’s well past the years where he should be <em>this </em>fixated, <em>this</em> willing to throw himself at someone. He would stand in the too cool AC and use the bathroom; wash his hands and splash some water on his face. Go sit in his next classroom reading quietly until the professor came in to get ready for class, where they could chat politely until the rest of the class arrived. That’s how Wednesdays work.</p>
<p>Today that plan is so unrealistic it’s absurd. His nerves all on high alert telling him how <em>good </em>the man would feel, trying to imagine the sound of his voice, thinking about sucking a mouth full of his skin.</p>
<p>Connor stands there feeling like a fucking freak, but… he doesn’t have time to make this a fight. Not when he knows his body is going to win and leave him strung out and on edge all day if he doesn’t do something about it.</p>
<p>Having spent the first two years of his college career in a shared dorm, Connor knows how to get off quickly and damn near silently. The water fountain is buzzing on the other side of the wall, so loudly he can feel it through the cool brick when he leans back against the wall. He shuts his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the embarrassing reality of an empty bathroom around him, can get lost in his annoyingly vivid imagination.</p>
<p>There are few things less dignified than coming into a wad of toilet paper in a public restroom, but at least nobody has to know.</p>
<p>The downside is that it starts becoming a part of his routine, which is a dangerous thing to allow a stranger to dictate, but he can’t help himself.</p>
<p>Any days the man is there are now marked by a lunch spent ogling his latest fascination and then stripping his dick in the bathroom immediately following. Most days the man is alone. Once another student stops by with a loud, “<em>Oh, hi Hank!</em>” and joins him. As jealous as Connor is at the casual pull of a smile across Hank’s face when he turns to speak to her, he’s grateful to know what name he should be smothering into his hand when he comes.</p>
<p>It’s nothing he’s particularly… <em>proud</em> of. Though, he privately justifies that it’s nothing like the straits he put himself in when he first got out here and didn’t know how to properly navigate his first tastes of freedom without getting entirely drunk on it. Now, he has grad school classes and TA assignments taking up most of his mental bandwidth. He sticks to his schedules and doesn’t lapse on his duties. This little obsession isn’t creeping out of its box, so…what’s the harm in indulging it? In his mind, anyway. They’re well past the point where Connor thinks he could approach Hank with any semblance of coherence and still keep the guilt off his face.</p>
<p>Marcus tells him he’s being stupid about his crush. Connor has delicately left out the part of the story that involves him regularly getting so keyed up that he has to jack off in a public restroom even though he’s sure that would help Marcus get the picture. Right now, he’s texting Connor to just go talk to him because they’re all sick of him pining, it’s not a good look on him, etcetera, etcetera. Honestly, it’s making Connor dig his heels in more than anything. He’s already personally delineated all the reasons this is a bad idea, so now he’s mostly trying to pretend to focus more on his phone than Hank powering through his second pizza.</p>
<p>However, the next time he looks up, Hank is resting his cheek on his fist, looking dead at him, an amused, if slightly questioning look on his face.</p>
<p>Connor almost fumbles his phone into his food.</p>
<p>Hank tosses up his free hand in a lazy wave, kicking out the chair in front of him and launching Connor’s heart right up into his throat in the process.</p>
<p>Okay.</p>
<p>Okay, so he’s…maybe not as subtle as he thought. That’s good to know, always important to know that kind of thing about oneself. Running now would be sort of a moot point and he’s not a coward. He’s been caught, he can own up to that. And while Hank doesn’t <em>look </em>angry, Connor’s <em>drooling</em> has been noticeable, so an apology is probably in order.</p>
<p>Hoping he looks a little less pink than he feels, Connor shoulders his bag before picking up his tray as he crosses the dining room.</p>
<p>“Well now, here we go,” Hank says with a smirk. His voice has a rasp to it that Connor hadn’t been expecting. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t get the nerve to speak up.”</p>
<p>“I apologize,” Connor says immediately. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”</p>
<p>Hank shrugs. “No ruder ‘an anyone else,” he replies, motioning for Connor to sit down.</p>
<p>“Staring is still impolite. Though, I want to be clear it was in… admiration” Connor replies as he sits down his tray. He extends his hand. “My name is Connor.”</p>
<p>“Connor,” Hank repeats, wiping his hands on his jeans before reaching to take his hand. “Good to finally have a name for my <em>admirer</em>.” He chuckles, “You been squirming in that seat ever since I started eating in here.”</p>
<p>Connor’s face is surely red now. Okay, so he’s nowhere near as subtle as he thought he was. “I… I don’t know what to say to that,” he admits because he doesn’t.</p>
<p>“Say whatever you want, kid,” Hank says, casually leaning back in his chair and picking up another slice of pizza and every single bit of that was designed to drive Connor crazy. “Been doing wonders for my ego having a pretty boy biting his lip at me.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t—” Connor starts to say, but well. He isn’t wholly sure he wasn’t.</p>
<p>Hank waves him off. “Figuratively, then. You gonna tell me what you want?”</p>
<p>The question catches Connor off guard, his mouth falling open before he can organize his thoughts into words. “I—I mean, I don’t expect—”</p>
<p> “I didn’t figure you expected anything,” Hank cuts in, mouth half full. “And I didn’t guarantee you nothing, either. Just asked what you <em>want.</em>”</p>
<p>Connor stares at Hank as he tucks back into his food, a knowing look on his face. And really, this is not—Connor doesn’t do this kind of thing anymore. He’s older, he <em>knows </em>better than to rush headlong into bed with people. But… it’s not like either of them are particularly misled by what’s going on. They aren’t volatile freshman. And more importantly, Connor isn’t about to walk away from the chance to get hands on Hank if that’s on the table. “Nothing I could say in polite company,” he answers carefully, uncomfortably aware of how little distance there is between them and the nearest students. Uncomfortably aware of the way he’s not hard, not yet, but thrumming with arousal all the same.</p>
<p>Hank grins at him though. “I’m not that fucking polite,” he replies, “but you can whisper it to me if you’re shy.”</p>
<p>Though he doesn’t put any particular emphasis on the word <em>shy</em>, Connor gets the feeling he’s being laughed at a little. It seems teasing, though, not malicious. Connor carefully cuts a glance around the nearest tables and tries to modulate his voice to be just loud enough to hear over the din of the busy room.  He leans forward, “Hank, there is very little I would say no to from you. It’s—I have never wanted to touch someone as bad as I want to touch you.”</p>
<p>The way Hank’s tongue peaks out from between his lips at that makes Connor want to come across the table and kiss him stupid. “That right?” he says lowly, “You a chaser, then? I’ve been told I’ve let myself go.”</p>
<p>Connor has a fleeting thought of what Hank would look like as a slimmer man, but it passes as irrelevant. “I’ve never thought of myself that way, but there is… something about you. I do appreciate—”</p>
<p>“<em>Appreciate</em>, huh?” Hank laughs.</p>
<p>Definitely teasing. “You’re extremely attractive and I’m going out of my head thinking about getting my hand or-or my <em>mouth</em> on your stomach and…” Connor does bite his lip then, feeling himself getting inadvisably hard given the setting. “Been thinking about how it’d feel if you fucked me.”</p>
<p>Hank’s eyes rove over him at that. “Yeah, I know you have, sweetheart. That where you been rushing off to after lunch?”</p>
<p>Connor nods, swallowing. “The bathroom across from the study area.”</p>
<p>“<em>Fuck. </em>Couldn’t even make it all the way back to your room?”</p>
<p>“I have a schedule to keep,” Connor replies and there’s a bit of stiffness to it. There always is, because he’s unfortunately quite used to new people pressing him about his stringent agenda. His tone tensed up without his control.</p>
<p>But whatever Hank sees on his face, he just nods. “Alright. How much time we got today?”</p>
<p>“Are you serious?”</p>
<p>“As a heart attack.”</p>
<p>Oh no, Connor’s going to stay obsessed, he really is. Anticipation has started running through his blood alongside the already slow burning arousal. “I have class in an hour.”</p>
<p>“Huh,” Hank says, sticking his tongue in his jaw as he looks Connor over consideringly. Then he bobs his head toward the chair beside him. “C’mere a sec.”</p>
<p>Connor stands easily, doesn’t bother at playing coy. When he sits down, Hank scoots his chair closer so he can lay his arm around Connor’s shoulders.</p>
<p>Hank leans close to his ear. “I’m willing to follow you to that bathroom,” he whispers, breath warm against Connor’s ear. His other hand takes Connor’s from where it’d fallen beside his tray to pull it under the table. His smirk is audible when Connor gasps as his hand is guided across a soft thigh up to the bulge between Hank’s legs. “But I’m not picky about waiting if we’re in a rush.”</p>
<p>Shock makes Connor go still, because he doesn’t miss Hank’s meaning. They’re on the far side of the dining room, most of the noise coming from the front near the windows, but they’re not alone. It’s not <em>private</em>. And Connor is technically a university employee that could get in a lot of trouble for…</p>
<p>It’s only really the sigh Hank lets out that alerts Connor that he’d been moving his hand unconsciously. He bites his lip and by sheer force of will, drags his hand back down to Hank’s thigh.</p>
<p>This time, Connor leans towards Hank’s ear, the older man tilting his head to meet him halfway. “Hank, if you let me get my mouth on you, I won’t need an hour.”</p>
<p>Hank is sitting close enough that Connor feels his chuckle all along his side, feels him flash pleasantly warm, too. “Mr. Prim and Proper, you sure got a mouth on you,” he mumbles as he sits back, looking at him with dark eyes. “Makes me wanna rumple you all up.”</p>
<p>Connor nods, even though it wasn’t a question. “Now?”</p>
<p>“Sure, kid,” Hank says, squeezing his shoulder. He adjusts himself in his pants before he gets to his feet with a soft grunt. “I’ll be in your spot,” he winks, pinching Connor’s cheek. “Wait a bit and follow me, yeah?”</p>
<p>“Okay, Hank,” Connor answers, watching him go longingly. He makes himself take a few more half-hearted bites of his lunch and texts Marcus that maybe he has a point about just talking to Hank.</p>
<p>Then he does his best not to look like he’s jogging as he quickly makes his way to the bathroom.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading…you don’t have to earn eating, just enjoy it</p>
<p>I really want a long piece about strait-laced, straightedge Connor falling for returning-to-school, grouchy, self-indulgent old rocker Hank. Like really bad, y’all.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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